


Take A Breath And Go To War

by VaguelyCreativeName



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Community: HPFT, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24896086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VaguelyCreativeName/pseuds/VaguelyCreativeName
Summary: "Already they faced Voldemort three times, and Lily knows the Potters play too important a role in the resistance to assume there won’t be another. They have to be on guard now."There's a war going on, and Lily has felt it everyday for the past five years, perhaps never more than today.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Kudos: 6





	Take A Breath And Go To War

For the past five years, there hadn’t been a day that Lily hadn’t cursed this horrific, pointless, terrifying, no good, very bad war. While some days, this was little more than a frustrated huff, or fingernails cutting uncomfortably into palms red with anxiety, there were also days spent scheming, planning missions, and fighting for everything she held dear, actively jinxing, hexing, cursing enemy soldiers, and still others where she could hardly see the point in getting out of bed. There was never a day she wasn’t affected by the war, never a day it didn’t at least cross her mind, never a day she was safe from it.

The day her mum died, she doubted whether the healers at St. Mungo’s mightn’t’ve been able to help her, if only the political climate had been a different one, instead of futilely recommending a change of air.

The day she left school, she agonised over what might come, but instead of fretting if she’d get to do the course she wanted, Lily wondered only when she would depart for battle, and how many of her classmates she’d get to see in five years’ time.

The day of her wedding, she grieved for all those people who couldn’t make it, because they were in hiding, or away on a mission, or gone forever.

Today, she’s been sitting on the bathroom floor, knees hugged tightly to her chest, eyes staring blankly at the shower curtain covered in drab and faded rubber duckies, the only thought she’s able to form swirling through her brain like water down the drain; only it’s clogged, refusing to disappear and instead resurfacing with murky feelings she’d rather keep hidden, threatening to overflow and spill.

There’s a war going on.

She ought to feel something, Lily thinks; panic, worry, hope, joy. Any of those would be appropriate, but instead, she’s sitting on the bathroom floor, arms wrapped around her legs, eyes trained on miniature beaks and once-comical shower hats, drowning in apathy.

There’s a war going on.

Millions of people have gone through this before, like her mother, and her mother before her, but Lily can’t bring herself to draw comfort from that, to connect with these countless others. Instead, she’s sitting on her bathroom floor, losing feeling in her fingers and unable to see past the severed bird heads on the bottom of her shower curtain, cut off from their bodies and the rest of the world.

There’s a war going on, and she’s having a baby.

Maybe she would have been excited, in another life, a different universe. Or maybe she would have worried how she, a nineteen-year-old barely a year out of Hogwarts, could ever be capable of raising a child. Instead, she’s sitting on her bathroom floor, legs numb and eyes unseeing, lethargic, full to the brim with dread, and guilt. How can anyone bring a child into the world in times of war, let alone she and James, two adolescents who only moved out of their childhood bedrooms what feels like a week ago? Two teenagers who’ve been playing at husband and wife for half a year and need a new toy now. Two soldiers who can never be certain they’ll ever see each other again every time either leaves the house. Two fighters daily risking their lives for dewy-eyed ideals and a chance at a brighter tomorrow.

This child will be born into a world of darkness and uncertainty, taking its first uneasy steps while Mum and Da are engaged in combat, firing spells above their heads, hoping to hit someone else’s. The child will invariably speak its first words at a funeral, seated safely in his mother’s lap, or cradled carefully in her father’s arms. They will grow up a hermit because there’s no way in hell Lily would ever allow her baby to leave this house while there’s even a single Death Eater running free.

Lily is torn from her thoughts by a knock on the door, and her husband’s voice announcing he’s coming in. James Potter’s eyes immediately find hers, disregarding the shower curtain in favour of his wife, and in a heartbeat, he’s crouched on the floor beside her, his hands warm on her face but his own pale with worry.

“Merlin, Lily,” he breathes, his voice shaky, and scarcely a whisper “You didn’t answer when I got back, and then I couldn’t find you – but thank Godric you’re safe.”

Lily doesn’t answer, because what can she say when James just failed to voice the fear she’s felt all day, that each and every instance something unexpected happens triggers panic mode, throws them deep into pools of worry and memories of drills, for even now, James has his wand clutched between her cheek and his fingers. Already they faced Voldemort three times, and Lily knows the Potters play too important a role in the resistance to assume there won’t be another. They have to be on guard now, with another life to keep safe.

“What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Wordlessly, Lily gestures to the sink, filled with three separate pregnancy tests, all showing the same result. He picks up one of them. It’s the purple one, the second one she took, Lily thinks vaguely, before she’s pulled to her feet into a hug. James’ wand, still in his hand, now rests against her left shoulder. Even as he murmurs affirmations of love into her hair, Lily pulls away from him.

“You’re not –” Mad. Excited. Hopeful. Terrified. Happy. Scared shitless. A thousand options flitter through Lily’s head, her earlier apathy replaced with an unknown number of emotions kneaded together into one big ball of confusion.

“I know this isn’t the ideal time,” she begins again, her conviction growing stronger, but she’s silenced by a smile and the most imperceptible shake of a head.

“Yeah. But it doesn’t matter, does it? It’s happening now, and I couldn’t be more excited.”

Of course, James would say that, ever the optimist, but in this moment, Lily is glad of her husband’s undeterrably sunny outlook.  
“How far along are you, do you know?”

“About seven weeks? Eight, maybe. They’ll be here at the end of July, possibly early August.”

“A little summer child,” James says, his grin stupid, goofy, and threatening to split his face so Lily can’t help but let slip some of it onto hers instead.

Of course, she still knows their tiny trooper will grow up in a world weary of war, where battles are waged outside their window. Lily also knows it would be a miracle if both her and James were to make it out of this war unscathed, but none of this matters for now, when she thinks not of unsafe settings, but of the wobbly steps crossing those rooms, and not of sombre silences, but of the gurgling and gibberish to break them, of little feet and tiny hands shielded by her own body if ever it came to it. As the two of them are standing on their bathroom floor, watched over by dozens of anatine eyes, Lily knows she and James will take it one step at a time, together, as they always have.


End file.
